Trapped, a poem by Adam White, poet

I now find myself unable to move.

Rainfall, the baby crying, dripping taps,
My father laughing, passing cars, silence.
Silence sitting between, we watch time elapse.
And I, static, unthinking, uncaring,
Can only bear to all at once collapse.

Rainfall. Pitter patter of tiny feet
As they run over the battered rooftops
And pound down cold, dreary English streets.

His voice a bellow of backward letters,
Like all other laughs, it tears and torments,
Leaving my mind tattered and untethered.

The damp courses through the weary structure.
Time and complacency will kill all things,
As it wastes and warps, creaks, bends and ruptures.
I, so stoic. So firm in the face of it,
Am brought low by this thick, fierce instruction.

I find myself with nothing to prove.

Stupid Face, a poem by Adam White, poet

I might just catch a flicker of the brightness of a voice,
Just a note, as I walk on by some moustachioed old man,
Whose accent reminds me, just for a second, of home.
I might say something loudly, so that he'll know that we're alike,
That we have a shared interest, a suffering, a land,
Surrounded as it is by fog and sorrow and turgid foam.
He might notice, but won't. Shamefaced refusal of heritage,
Knowing that I'd see in his eye what he would see in mine;
The lie, the real reason we both fled that unhappy place.
He might have seen and stayed silent the way all the English did,
Of how our war never ended, we were never made whole again,
And how daily our sacrifice was thrown back in our stupid face.


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Revolver, a poem by Adam White, poet

Click, a clack, click, spin,
Revolve, click, silence,
Tears and timeless seconds spent pleading,
Revolution. I see the world revolving.
Revolve, click, deep breath,
Your begging words just seem revolting.
"Involve yourself in a cause worth solving"
Revolve, click, you piss,
And at last, at last we're cooking
With gas. With wood and coal and the upper class.
Revolve, click, burning,
The establishment in full collapse,
Bloody hands, a red flag is wildly waving,
Revolve, click, relief,
Tension as heart strings are fit to snap,
I raise my revolver and pull the trigger.
Revolve, click...



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